Queue Up Poems - Poems about Queue Up

Eurotunnel Travel

While sharing the ride
and not a lot to see or do
seated side by side
in the Chunnel queue
with commuters driving home
I took a look at the view
carpool tunnel vision syndrome

Go enjoy life and leave the queue

Losing a friend sucks 
Losing hope in your crush sucks 
Waiting for people to change sucks
Finding out you comfort hoodie in dirty sucks
If I keep going I’d cry and that sucks

So let me change one letter 
And turn the word into bucks 
Or let me put my headphones on 
And go watch some ducks 
As

The Ides of March

This week is bleak, the birds don’t sing
No sun, no rains, but greyness
Even the churchbells didn’t ring
Have they become atheists
The bellman and the bearded dean
And all the congregation?
In times like this to breathe is sin
No promise of salvation 
Can take away the truth it fakes
And like a stubborn stem
Grows through the slab, the truth condemns

Jump the queue

A creative urge arises
It’s origin to us unknown
Grace in-pours through heart’s open door
Ushering blissful surprises
Focus peaks, rose in bloom full blown
Spoken of in awe in folklore

Divine ignition continues
It’s renewal continual 
Where we’re a humble receptor
Witnessing how rapture renews
Here and now, in life’s pulse dual
Bliss piercing each body vector

As we burn in mind-body urn
Our soul thus

There Was An Old Lady Who Stood In A Queue

There was an old lady who stood in a queue 
Where the queue led to I hadn’t a clue
So I don’t know why she was stood in the queue
And if I don’t know, then neither do you

The queue started moving one step now and then
Once in a while it would move ahead ten
I still don’t

Dogs in Queue

How happy the dogs are to find a tree.
Raising one leg, what fun it is to pee.
They look a disciplined crew.
All are lined up in a queue.
When all are done, a flowing stream you’ll see!

THE QUEUE

THE QUEUE

It looks like a male at that yew.
I’m surprised: don’t know about you.
For I’ve always thought
That, when taken short,
It’s only the women that queue

In Queue

With massive boobs in bra of Saphire blue
She is indeed voluptuous to view
To feel her seductive love 
And make her their hottie dove
Men vie with each other standing in queue

Queue

Queue, in my nation, is a customary circumstance, 
Women, each day, stand in queues for municipal water;
Young and old, before government ration stores, stand in trance,
Youths, with diplomas, stand in queues for the imprimatur...!

Banks have long queues and the A.T.M counters have no less,
One could find, in front of Public Washrooms, the longest queues; 
Sure,

The Sick In a Long Queue

If one is sick and in a long queue,
One needs some guy’s immediate rescue.
No challenging one with “it’s my turn”.
What if it’s a bad case of Heartburn?

Let The Sick grab your earned position,
As you make it Quickest Decision!
If one should drop dead from your stern ‘No!’,
Watchers would The Ruthless in you know…

Yet, who is sick

Queue Up For This One

DQ
      IQ
       GQ
    All have something in common
       Dig?

Kerosene Queue Worries

Where’s the paid watcher of my Jerry can
And who the hell just bounded it off,
My face now a hotter frying pan,
Never to learn how to absorb a bluff?

Lame excuses I don’t fail a wheel chair 
And their givers try to not spare:
These days’ lies changed like robes
By lips doubly sure no listener probes...
Because kerosene is

Dole Queue

A handsome man from Peru,
Found himself in a stew,
He had no money,
Which isn't funny,
So he had to join the dole queue

Impatience In a Queue

Who would relaxed smiles flash,
In a longish queue,
And not later think it a bit rash?
I tell you “a Discouraging Few”,
And am willing to stake good cash!

It had been an intolerance far from new, 
Not just by The Brash,
By whom, at home, had left a waiting stew,
By the nobility, for example, Prince Nash,
But also by the

Rhyme

Rhyme
is not
the be-all
and the end-all –
the cadence supersedes, mellifluous.
Counting syllables, as superfluous
as the vowels
contained in
the word
queue.
Sounds
in chants
we danced to
before writing –
morae have primacy over meaning. 
Rhythm takes precedence, despite your leaning.
And forced rhymes jar:
him and dim
do not
rhyme!
Rules 
are made 
to askew
and be broken:
double dactyl*:- flib-ber-ti-gib-bet-ing
Defending contests fiercely --- gibbeting.
Breaking your head
to conform
to design,
rhyme.
Puns,
blasé 
efforts, but
double

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